


Lucky Number Eleven

by fandomfairytales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Draco's sinuses disagree, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Ginny is a saint, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Idiots in Love, Law School, Mutual Pining, No war, Slow Burn, Strictly Dramione's Valentine's Day Smut Fest, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tutoring, and another bet, and denial, but not for long, but we're here for the smut, doves and magical confetti canons do not mix, everybody ships Dramione, i cant angst, ish, oh look a bet, tacky tropey decorations, who can do no wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: written for SD Valentine's Day Smut Fest 2019 - Prompt;Hermione sets out to woo Draco, deciding to use some of the 129 tips on how to find a husband as printed in an old edition of Witch Weekly from 1958. Needless to say, the suggestions are sexist, archaic, and downright hilarious.#11: get a job in a medical, dental orlaw school





	Lucky Number Eleven

**Author's Note:**

> Another fest complete!! YAY :) Huge thanks to my wonderful beta daynaann, the organisers and to all you lovely people participating, can't wait to read everyone's submissions.
> 
> So prompt/tip #eleven; actually my lucky number (fun author fact: my birthday is 11/11 and I was born at 11am) and I adore the law trope having studied it myself...
> 
> So here we are, I hope you enjoy it.

 

oOo

Never let it be said Hermione Granger was not persistent. Nor would she be considered a quitter. She had too much pride to let herself fail.

Thus, ply her with a little wine and those traits amplified to what ‘sober Hermione’ considered a reckless extent. A fact Ginny Weasley was happy to exploit.

Six or so years of friendship and she was still letting the redheaded hellion rope her into activities she wasn’t fond of; makeover nights were no exception (at least Ginny wasn’t short a bottle of cab sav to bargain with).

So, there she was exhausted after a day of errands and pre-semester studying (inter-sentient-species law was a bitch), wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe pouring over Molly Weasley’s vintage editions of Witch Weekly with her roommate, a bottle of fuchsia nail polish balancing precariously on her thigh while she painted.

“Sweet Merlin, have you seen this article?”

“GINNY!” she hissed out her breath in warning “…Don’t move, I’ll get nail polish everywhere!”

She barely had time to let go of Ginny’s right hand before it was snatched away. Briefly checking for smudges, Ginny gingerly picked up the magazine in question and tossed it to Hermione for her scrutiny.

She barely suppressed her gag at the headline.

_‘129 TIPS TO MAKE SNAGGING A MAN EASIER THAN CATCHING THE SNITCH’_

A thinly veiled attempt at innuendo? Check (really, snagging-shagging, honestly), sexist overtones? Check, and a distinct lack of feminist values…You can guess where this is going; Reading on would be painful, to say the least.

“I’d bet my wand none of them ever worked… Well, maybe not my wand, but you get the idea.”

“Would you bet 20 galleons and a year of dish duty?”

Having already returned to the horrors of Witch Weekly’s 1958 Valentine’s edition, Hermione didn’t realise just what she was agreeing to when she responded with her half-hearted;

“Hmm? Sure Gin.”

Nor was she listening to Ginny outline the terms of a wager as she continued down the list, rolling her eyes in revulsion and scoffing quietly until she was required to tune back in with an answer.

“…So, you swear to give it an honest go?”

“Witch’s honour.” She mumbled back, with no inkling of what she was in for.

Two hours later, they’d cracked a bottle of vodka and almost finished it; both rolling drunk and spinning scenarios for any ‘tips’ that caught their eye, Hermione was blissfully unaware just how serious Ginny was.

“‘Mione, this one’s…hic… perfect for you, it’s _the one!_ Well, two ones” She giggled to herself and Hermione stared at her, perplexed. “Number eleven…hic… And you love to tu- hic…Tutor; we jus’ need to get you a few lil’ skirts…hic… Pop a few buttons on your blouse, maybe some heels—”

“Ginevra Weasley! I will not parade myself around campus looking like a complete tart!”

“But…Hic… We made a deal!”

“I made no such—”

“Did so—” Ginny whined, “—Where’s your ‘witch’s honour’ Hermione!”

Finally, the gravity of the situation dawned on her and she was livid with herself for her lack of focus. Merlin, at least she’d picked one with some promise for her situation; get a job at a law school… Well, she’d spent years working on Ron and Harry’s studies, what was the harm tutoring someone else?

More revision time was on the cards and that could only be a plus. Still, she chastised herself for ignoring the ramblings of her friend and whilst vowing never again, almost missed Ginny’s following sentence.

“…Besides, how else’ll Malfoy get the hint? Hic-”

“Malfoy? What on earth does this have to do with him?”

“Oh…Humm, wasn’t s’posed to tell youuu.” She sing-songed with a sleepy grin.

Remember that thing about persistence occasionally being a bad thing? Hermione really should have let Ginny’s slip up go.

“What am I _not_ supposed to know?”

“Nnnope! Can’t…Hic… I promised.”

“Gin, tell me now or I swear I’ll tell Ron what happened in his tent!”

Her eyes widened comically, glassy from the alcohol but all too aware just how serious a threat it was. Hermione didn’t particularly want to dredge up the memory of what she walked in on at the last World Cup, nor did she want to burst Ron’s bubble regarding his little sister and his best mate (he was still in denial about their highly active relationship); but if it meant satisfying her curiosity, she would be ruthless.

“Noooo, you wouldn’t?” Ginny Slurred, feigning hurt.

“I would. You know I would.”

Hermione couldn’t smother her wolfish grin and Ginny slumped her shoulders, accepting her swift defeat.

“Well…Hic… I heard from Luna, who heard from Zabini, that Malfoy told Nott he has the hots for you…Hic… Something about you being the most tantalising swot he’d ever met.”

Surprise didn’t come close to describing Hermione’s reaction, frankly, it was only a minuscule part of it. For one ephemeral moment she felt she might faint, the next she was laughing hysterically (because of course he would both insult and compliment her), then questioning; her existence, his existence, replaying every recent interaction until she was satisfied (aka; lying to herself) that there was nothing to indicate he felt anything more than passing indifference, and after that pointless exercise, came the inevitable and not so thrilling conclusion; denial.

Deep, damning denial that blanketed her mind, dousing the warm flicker in her chest at the thought and calmed her fraying nerves.

She told herself everything would be fine. He’d hardly spoken to her after orientation, short of making a sincere apology for behaving poorly in their youth. Therefore, she knew for a fact when she crossed paths with him next semester, he wouldn’t look at her, she wouldn’t notice his stupidly soft looking hair or that dumb ‘pout-smirk’ he’d trademarked (how was that even possible) and she certainly wouldn’t wonder if Ginny’s rumour was true.

 

oOo

Unfortunately for Hermione it seemed Ginny was not the type to drink and forget, despite spending the entirety of Sunday in bed, bemoaning Russian distillers and headaches; in the days that followed their bet to execute one tip from that vapid magazine, she had thought herself safe, until Wednesday rolled around and she received a floo call begging for her tutelage from a nervous sounding Blaise Zabini.

Naturally she found it highly suspect, she knew exactly who the former Slytherin and renowned lothario bunked with and it was no coincidence he (read: they) required her assistance; though it was flattering to have him attempt to woo her into giving up her time to tutor them (of course she was paid a small fee, but who in their right mind would say no to homemade cauldron cakes or a few extra sugar quills).

Still, she wasn’t pleased with Ginny’s meddling, even if it did get her a job (‘small fee’ was a slight understatement), she stormed back to her flat and demanded answers she didn’t require.

“But Hermione dear, a job at a law school is specified under tip number eleven, after all that planning Saturday night, surely you knew this was coming? Practically a stroke of genius on my part if I do say so myself; Blaise was more than happy to help once I made him a proposition.”

“Good god, what could he possibly want from you?”

“Eh, I set him up with Luna.” She replied nonchalantly

“Luna? Really? Blaise and—you know what, I see it…”

“Now there’s two couples hinging on this bet, I should get paid for doing this, I’d make a fortune!”

“Hinging!? Ginny…” She let out an exasperated sigh “…This _thing_ is going to flame out faster than you can cast aguamenti. Believe me.”

Ginny, ever the dramatist, stared straight through her, blankly until she was satisfied Hermione had finished voicing her negativity. Then with a flip of her hair, decided the best course of action was to ignore Hermione’s concerns entirely.

After all, she had a bet to win; Hermione had already done half the work (technically all, as their tutor), she just needed to provide the nudge in the right direction, and it wasn’t going to be difficult.

Thus, her interests in another bet (on the side with Nott and Zabini) would be protected; she was certain they’d be at it like rabbits by Valentine’s day.

“So, keeping your end of the bargain, you’ll tutor Blaise and Malfoy Monday and Fridays, and I’ll choose your outfits so you can’t sabotage me with that brown cardigan you love so much. Unless you want to admit you’re in over your head and take the punishment?”

“NO! that might actually be worse, I can’t stand reality television.”

 

oOo

Ginny was well aware Hermione had no idea what she’d agreed to Saturday night; it gave her license to elaborate at any time and she exploited that advantage. Was it manipulative? Absolutely; positively Slytherin of her; but it was done with the best of intentions.

After catching wind of Malfoy’s thoughts on her roommate, Hermione stood little chance of missing the opportunity it presented. Ginny was ever the pragmatist, knowing Hermione secretly returned his sentiments.

So, what had started out as rather a straightforward bet, had quickly evolved into a contract, as she continued to make up rules Hermione had unknowingly agreed to; and if it gave her a sense of satisfaction to reap a little payback for Hermione’s habit of zoning out in favour of a book or her studies (though Ginny never truly took it personally), what was the harm?

Intention was everything, and she had every _intention_ of getting those two idiots to admit just how right they were for each other, beyond all the petty childhood behaviour. Bonus points if her friend got a decent screw out of it too; the man wasn’t a snack, he was five god damn courses of deliciousness, plus dessert and anyone with functioning eyes knew it.

All things considered, Hermione was taking it like a champ and Ginny knew the underlying reason for her lack of disagreement; when Monday arrived and she set out a blouse and skirt combination bound to make Malfoy salivate, she was met with minimal protest; although there was the obligatory remark on why she couldn’t just wear jeans to which she responded;

“Because you have legs to die for and it would be a shame to keep them hidden away under all that denim.”

“But Ginny, it's not like this is a formal affair, it’s just tutoring!”

“Just tutoring? So, you’d prefer to show up looking like you’ve just rolled out of bed?”

“I wasn’t—ugh… No.”

“Then hush up and let me work my magic.”

By the time she was done, Hermione looked like a smart-casual dream. With her hair pinned up in a secure chignon, a touch of rosebud lipstick to compliment her pale pink blouse and mid-length navy skirt combo; Ginny was certain she’d make a fine impression.

She sent her friend off with a smile and a wave as she stepped into the fireplace, with her fingers firmly crossed at her side.

 

oOo

Draco wasn’t sure why he let that scoundrel talk him into this. Tutoring with Hermione Granger was the last thing he needed; for Merlin’s sake, he’d scored straight O’s last year. Blaise, on the other hand, was convincing in his need for assistance; he was smart but lacked the concentration required to achieve higher results (though Draco supposed it made sense when you suffer heartsickness as obviously as Blaise).

Draco preferred to endure his own pining in silence, distracting himself with everything he could; and now his main escape from thoughts of the wild-haired swot would be painfully opposite.

She was set to arrive in half an hour, and he was whipping about their townhouse in a frenzy of nerves and roiling anger at the situation. Blaise was cool and collected as ever, sprawled on their couch as though the world wasn’t about to end the second she stepped through the fireplace.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even bother to consult me first!”

“Why would I, when its so much fun watching you pace like a headless chicken?”

“I swear if you make a single innuendo, I will hex you into next week, and believe me I’ve been saving a few good ones for occasions such as this.”

“What? Like me begging Granger to tutor _both_ of us without telling you until the morning of? You must be a seer mate.”

“I am not your mate, right now I am… I’m… _fuck_ , I don’t know what I am, but I know I’m cross with you.”

“Please, you just don’t want to admit I’m doing you a favour. You hate being indebted.”

“Indebted! She hates my guts, you imbecile! You can’t honestly tell me you thought this afternoon would go well? It’s going to make everything worse.”

“She knew you’d be here, and she still agreed.”

Draco’s left eye twitched in his attempt to suppress his aggravation. Blaise was right. She knew exactly what she was getting into, but he couldn’t help feeling nervous; the last thing he wanted to do was risk opening his big mouth and pissing her off. Gorgeous as she looked spitting mad, he was in no position to entice her back should she take offence to him; that thought frightened him most.

He couldn’t begin to explain how he’d managed to reach such a point of admiration, only that she walked into his first lecture on legal research and the dark clouds swirling around him, obscuring the vibrancy of the world parted, with her at the epicentre shining through. His admissions of such feelings were only voiced after consuming a bottle of fire whiskey; leaving him vulnerable to Blaise and Theo’s interrogation.

His two (currently debateable) favourite schemers thought the best way to fix his situation was to trick her, but he couldn’t see a positive outcome by forcing things. He was quite the believer in ‘where there is strain, there will always be strain’ and– Well, he didn’t need to delve into that.

While he introspected, time ticked on and though he did everything in his power to slow it with his impending sense of dread; she would, of course, be punctual and he waited with bated breath for the tell-tale roar of the fireplace announcing her arrival.

His entire body felt like a livewire; like he’d shock the next person to touch him with his persistent anxiety; However, there was no more time to ponder because he was watching her manifest in the flames and his breath was busy catching in his throat.

All he could think during their introductions and idle small talk was how perfectly different she looked. With her hair disobedient to its new style, her loose blouse (buttoned respectably but not prudish in the least) and reading glasses slipping down her nose when she peeked over at him every minute or so, it only served to make her adorably real.

There was also the small matter of the lipstick she wore, calling attention to the feature he thought most about; like she had insider information on his fantasies; kissing that smart little mouth until her lips and cheeks were flushed pink. It was an innocent fantasy compared to his friend’s speculations, but it never ceased to make his heart jump. Somehow, he knew kissing Hermione Granger would be life-changing, earth-shaking and soul-shattering all at once.

With pleasantries exchanged, they each took seats around the dining table, with Hermione at the head, spreading stationery, textbooks and parchment everywhere, inviting them to follow suit.

 

oOo

That first Monday was a resounding success, they didn’t argue, Blaise abstained from slinging innuendos at her and he caught her staring (more than once). From there it became a very welcome part of his life.

Twice a week she would arrive, and they would go over their course material together. Her attention might have been set on assisting Blaise, but her eyes constantly drifted to him, saying something more. It was encouraging to say the least.

As they grew closer (small talk had blossomed into fond conversation), he noticed there were two Hermione’s in his life; the one who showed up to lectures with dark circles under her eyes, a shock of bed head, grouchy expression, coffee and books balanced in her hands and a rich, brown cardigan that made her look so invitingly cosy, he couldn’t resist daydreaming about curling up by a fire with her, just to snuggle.

The other version was the visage of a professional tutor, with her coiffed hair, feminine, shapely clothes and endless, patient encouragement. One and the same, she was smart as a whip, unafraid of her own prowess and exhibited her blatant stubborn tendencies constantly.

He came to know and love both sides; he loved her snapping at him in the morning, wearing a tee with holes around the neck; in swirling skirts and dresses (the latest had spawned a rather explicit fantasy entailing their preferred study area and a ruler; she’d absentmindedly snapped it against her palm and well, you get the idea). He liked seeing her smile when Blaise made progress and the way she challenged him to beat her in their next round of exams…

It took a month to fall harder and faster than ever before; He wanted everything with and of her; seven-thirty Hermione who hadn’t had enough caffeine to deal with the morning yet was a vision, the girl who hid her smile every time he jokingly called her ‘professor’ was utterly endearing, she liked to set up her desk in a meticulous fashion and couldn’t seem to manage two socks of the same colour, but was perfect anyway, and he often caught himself wishing he could replace that damn cardigan. Most of all, he loved the way she gravitated toward him without thinking.

As the weeks passed and the term began, she grew more comfortable spending time with him, and he found his days taken up with her. She’d take the desk beside him and quietly discuss lecture points, they’d often find themselves close by in the library and then one day she appeared beside him to eat lunch, the same had occurred every day since.

It was more than he deserved, more than he could have wished for. Their childish arguing became banter and fodder for witty repartee, her laugh never ceased to make him blush and once or twice had sent blood rushing south when she had needed to support herself on him. It was innocuous on her part, but he couldn’t help his reaction; she hung off his shoulders, her body pressed close to his own while he tried to reboot his brain.

Keeping his mind clear around her was a challenge but he refused to let it show, unsure of her feelings; they were tentative friends with a new understanding of one another, he didn’t want to be the one to shift the dynamic.

Their friends, on the other hand, were getting antsy and once again decided to take matters into their own hands.

 

oOo

“We need to get them somewhere romantic!”

Half an hour of planning and that was the best Theo could come up with. It was laughable.

“That might actually work!”

“Oh boy, clearly I need to spell this out for you gents; Hermione wouldn’t know romantic if it hit her with a book, as for Draco, he’s naturally suspicious, so, you better be certain you can pull one over on him.”

Both men wilted, another idea spiralling down the brainstorming drain.

“Awh, don’t be like that; it was a solid idea but if you want to get these two doing anything more than sexually charged reading, it’ll have to be crafty… Here’s the plan…”

 

oOo

Hermione _hated_ Valentine’s day. All the red hearts and sweets drove her barmy, and those chubby little cupids made her stomach roil. So, when she woke on Monday morning and walked into her lectures greeted by banners and streamers in varying shades of pink, she had to work to suppress a retch.

At least there was someone who seemed to be in the same boat; Malfoy sat in his usual spot at the back of the hall, glaring daggers at the décor and any girl who dared stray close to him with lovestruck eyes. She watched him fend off an enthusiastically enchanted card, allowing herself a moment of amusement before murmuring a counter-curse for him and taking her seat.

They spent the day together, pointedly avoiding every cliché they could; rolling their eyes at all the love going around; it wasn’t sweet it was a damn virus, one neither of them could admit they wanted to catch (however if she had looked closely at him, she would have seen the ‘adoration fever’ in his eyes).

After their last tutorial, she walked him home and tried to ignore the pressing desire to grab his hand while they walked. Unfortunately, when they entered the verifiable tunnel ‘o’ love that had become his townhouse, there was no time to consider the idea’s merit further.

“What the fuck?” They breathed in confused unison.

Paper chain hearts hung everywhere, doves were roosting in the rafters, there were so many bouquets dotted around the room Draco sneezed, and every surface was covered in rose petals; even the kitchen bench. It was pandemonium and possibly death by pollen.

They stood in the doorway stunned and for some unknown reason she sidled closer, her arm looping through his and her hand taking hold of his bicep as they took in the shockingly gaudy, confronting scene.

“Thought you hated Valentine’s?” She jibed playfully

“I do, this is… Is, erm… It’s not mine.”

“Who do you think the lucky girl is then?”

“If she likes this kind of thing, I’m not sure I want to know”

“Well its hardly conducive to study and you’ve already paid for my time. We’ll go to mine instead, I’m sure Ginny won’t mind.”

Getting to the Floo was a challenge in itself; clearly, Blaise hadn’t thought things through, casting the magical equivalent of motion detectors, to set off showers of scented heart shaped confetti. In short, a terrible idea with wild doves around, they spooked and turned Draco’s once tidy living room into a Hitchcock film.

They bolted, throwing the powder and praying the feathered terrors didn’t follow them. They tumbled out onto her rug, covered in soot from a botched landing, cackling like hyenas together on the floor over the mess Blaise would be cleaning up later.

She didn’t realise she hadn’t let go of his hand until she clutched it to her chest, curling into his side, using him as an anchor, lest she float up to the ceiling like Uncle Albert in Mary Poppins; he abruptly sobered, looking down at her fingers curled between his own like there was a revelation between their palms. Maybe there was.

Suddenly, there it was again, that strange warm feeling she’d had for weeks, the one that had first manifested when Ginny told her Draco had something of a schoolboy crush on her and had continued to exist in her subconscious as their friendship progressed.

Feeling bold and somewhat giddy she made what she considered a top five wild, rash decision. In a rather graceful move on her part, she rolled and pinned him, her knees bracketing his hips, putting her at the right height to lean down and artlessly crush her lips to his. It felt like a rubber band finally snapping after weeks pulled taught and anticipation soared in her chest.

It was awkward for a moment and she was certain her hair had ended up in both their mouths; but it was perfect in its own way. She understood it had likely been a shock, but the second he regained the sense to kiss her back, she melted above him.

Everything about Draco put her senses into overload and engaging multiple all at once was nothing short of heaven.

His hands left nothing to be desired, skimming her sides one moment, working her buttons undone the next and her own revelled in the softness of his hair. He always smelled perfect (like fresh linen, parchment and a hint of mint), and she drank it in while he mouthed and sucked at her neck. The sounds he made were new and exciting and oh so arousing, urging her on with each gasp, moan and sigh as she felt herself respond in turn, heat pooling at the juncture of her thighs while they unravelled together.

He’d already made quick work of her blouse and his shirt had hastily followed; his eyes eventually finding hers, seeking permission to continue before his fingers slipped under the waistband of her jeans. She sagged against him, the relief of his fingers meeting her core too wonderful to bear silently.

She pulled off her boots and shimmied out of her trousers immediately before helping him tug his own free and tossing them over her shoulder. She couldn’t deny he was an impressive specimen, but it was last on the list of things she admired about him.

His deft fingers wasted no time discovering what made her twitch with pleasure and she was grateful when he discovered that spot inside her that always seemed just out of reach on her own.

She sobbed into his neck as he brought her to the edge of her first climax and pleaded when he pulled away.

“Why?” she whined breathlessly

“Fingers or tongue?” he panted in her ear.

Oh.

She didn’t hesitate, understanding her choice immediately, she shuffled up with his hands on her arse guiding her until she reached his waiting mouth. It was pure heaven and he was enthusiastic; taking her pleasure for himself as he worked her with lips and tongue, her slick coating his face until she quaked above him with the intensity of her orgasm.

When she sat back, she found him in awe of her, he caressed her encouragingly, lovingly and in his grey eyes, she found assurance. She was not alone in her feelings.

“Slow… Just like that, Hermione…Please, I don’t want this to end.”

“Then it’ll just have to be a regular thing.”

“Y-you want to?”

She nodded emphatically, suppressed tears of joy shining in her eyes, mirrored in his.

“Yeah, I think I’ve wanted to for a while…”

Draco’s smile was luminous and heartening.

He was hanging by a thread, his cock throbbing and hard under her touch. She was merciful, if greedy; needing to come with him this time.

She slithered down to grind against him, his cock shining with her wetness when she rose to notch him at her entrance. Hermione found herself well prepared to take him and when her hips met his she lost all sense.

It was magnificent, she moved her hips in shallow circles, and he gipped her hips painfully tight in response, propping himself up to suck at her breast, groaning a string of expletives into her chest that only encouraged her. She jolted, sparks erupting behind her eyelids when he thumbed at her clit and she accidentally nipped his throat, leaving her mark on his skin.

The sounds he made evidenced his enjoyment and she couldn’t resist kissing him, swallowing every moan and claiming it as hers. Always hers; and he knew it.

When she grew weary, he flipped them, settling between her legs and entering her so slowly she felt hyperaware of every inch he gave her, down to the hilt.

“More.”

When he remained still, she made her point by rolling her hips against his.

“Fuck me harder, please Draco.”

His head dropped to her shoulder and she swore she felt him twitch inside her.

“God, Hermione you’re…” It was hardly a sentence, but she knew exactly what he meant.

He gripped her tighter and obliged.

Wild abandon suited them, something about the passionate, frantic way they both craved and sought release was hypnotic.

She cried his name into her empty flat until she was hoarse, and he encouraged it wholeheartedly; tenderly kissing her, rubbing tight circles around her or rolling a nipple gently between his teeth, making her arch up and plead for more.

When she came, it was an unexpected, drawn-out climax; she pulsed around him, clawed at his shoulders and back, her hips bucking wildly under his while her muscles quivered with strain, until she practically liquefied, the only thing keeping her solid were her fingers wound into his pale hair, pulling him into her chest.

He followed her into blissful oblivion a few strokes later, one of her hands finding its way between them to coax his orgasm sooner.

His hips stuttered and he peppered kisses over her face and jaw while he came, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear while they both descended their shared summit.

She took him to bed after cleaning up and refused to let him leave; even when he jokingly wondered if their activities counted as ‘tutoring’.

“Well, you’re on the clock, and I learned plenty…”

“Draco, what you’re suggesting… That’s technically prostitution, I get paid, remember?”

“Oh… Right.”

She chuckled lightly and snuggled deeper into his embrace, enjoying his warmth and feeling content.

“However, my advice…” She paused for the sake of comedic timing “…As your ‘lawyer’, would be to find a loophole.”

“Mmh? And what do you have in mind?” He teased back, humouring her.

She pulled his hand under the covers, settling it over her hip and let him run with the idea.

“I don’t know, but we’ll think of something.”

“We’d be poor excuses for law students if we couldn’t.”

 

oOo

“Lucky number eleven!!! Pay up boys, they didn’t make it past the living room after that horror show we set up at your place.”

“Nuh-uh, we helped make it happen! Doesn’t count.”

“Well, then how about another wager?”

“What’cha got in mind red?”

“Married by graduation?”

“We’ll take that bet.”

 

oOo

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for giving this a read, it was a little last minute to finish but I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing :) 
> 
> Feel free to leave comments, kudos or both; I live for feedback 
> 
> Happy Valentines everyone <3 xoxo  
> -Em


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